Love is Blindness
by AIs4Awsome
Summary: inspired a little by twilight but with my own characters and plot. 18 year old em is a normal high schooler until she starts to get involved with a guy in her bio class who may not be completley human. read/review please if u want me to continue...may consider publishing
1. Chapter 1

Okay. Don't panic. Do not panic. It's only my biology test result– really just a piece of paper. I mean, how scary can a piece of paper be?

I stare out the window of Mr. Field's second floor bio room, willing myself to flip over the crisp white piece of paper lying face down on the black chrome lab bench in front of me. It's only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the hundredth time. And I'm not completely stupid am I? I know exactly how well I did on that test.

Sort of. Not really…

I probably got a…%65. At least. After all, I did study. Okay so I didn't exactly study my brains out or anything but I did take a look at my bio notes the night before the test. I remember because that was the night Maris and I had that Friends Season three marathon. Maris had just got the box set from her cousin and she came over right after dinner just when I was sitting down to review my notes and….oh crap. I didn't really get around to actually reviewing them, did I?

Okay. Don't panic. I repeat, do not panic.

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself but failing miserably. What was it that Dad said he would do if I failed this test? Oh right. Take away the keys to my Honda Civic. Oh crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Why is it that the onetime Dad threatens me with grounding it involves taking away my car? Why couldn't he have just been like any other dad and threaten to take away my T.V. privileges or my internet access or something instead? My car is like my unofficial baby, and yes, I know that sounds weird but it's true. Just the mere thought of losing my car motivates me to take another deep breathe while inwardly praying I won't start hyperventilating against my will.

At the lab stool next to mine Tanya Edwards looks up from her test. Of course she has that smug "I am so the shit" smile plastered across her squished pug-like little face. She only ever smiles like that after she's aced a test or has gotten an insanely good mark on an assignment. Which is pretty much all the time. I loathe Tanya Edwards.

"Okay, Emma?"

"Fine," I say, a little too lightly, "Just looking over my test."

I force myself to smile and nonchalantly flip over the piece of paper, goaded by her curious gaze. Almost immediately my smile disappears. The page is black with type and messy with my erratic handwriting. Of course, it's not messy enough to distract from the large %32 menacingly scrawled in bright red ink at the top right corner of the page.

%32.

"Oh my God." I say aloud.

"Hmmmm?" says Tanya.

I don't even bother acknowledging her; instead I sit for roughly thirty seconds completely motionless. Then, finally, without changing my expression, I bend over beside my stool and stuff the test into my purse.

When I resurface, Tanya is watching me, that ridiculous smile still glued to her face.

"You sure everything is alright, Emma?" she asks in mock concern that nearly causes my eyes to roll on their own. Oh please. As if Tanya actually gives a half a rat's ass if I'm alright or not. No doubt she just wants me to spill that I completely annihilated my bio test; then she can go run off to her little nerd herd friends and tell them that Emma White is so stereotypical popular dumb blonde cheerleader she could be a cartoon cut out.

"Of course I'm alright," I practically sniff doing my best "You are ever so beneath me, thou mere mortal" act. I even throw in a hair toss, almost smacking her right across the face with my glossy sheet of (okay I'll admit unnatural) blonde hair. I honestly feel like I just stepped off the set of "Mean Girls" but this girl really gets to me. It's really not fair that a girl who looks like she could quite possibly be a blood relative to Otis from Milo and Otis could be such a goddamn genius.

"I just did a lot better on my test than I thought I would," I lie, trying to imitate her patented smug smile. "I got %80." I add while flicking a piece of imaginary lint off the front of my cream colored completely lint-free top. Okay, another lie but whatever. There is no way I'm going to let this girl think I'm some stereotypical dumb blonde cheerleader off of – ew - Glee or something. God forbid.

"Oh, that's good, I guess." Tanya says nonchalantly glancing down at her chewed up nails, "I got a %91."

Fuck me.

She must see my face fall into a look of utter defeat because she says almost sympathetically, "But %80 is still pretty decent. Good for you, Emma." I find myself actually waiting for her to toss me a cookie or give me a little pat on the head when Mr. Field's calls our attention back to the front of the room now that he has finished passing out the tests.

"Alright, I can't say I was exactly pleased with the results on this one, especially considering the subject review I practically spoon fed you all the day before the test." Mr. Field says, leaning his elbows against his desk and eyeing us almost accusingly. The man may be bald as an egg and a good forty pounds over what is considered to be a "healthy weight" but that doesn't mean he can't pull off being intimidating. "And especially considering my repeat offers of voluntary lunch help for those of you struggling with the material in this course – which happens to be the majority of you. Seriously, people. Only two out of thirty odd students in this class received a passable grade on this test. Two people. That's an embarrassment."

Ouch. I try not to physically wince, knowing it will probably give my little lie away to Tanya who – of course - doesn't miss a thing. Out of the corner of my eye I see her practically light up like a goddamn Christmas tree. The cow.

"Those of you who passed, you know who are and congratulations. However, for the rest of you, while I am extremely disappointed, I've decided to be the nice guy here and give you a second chance. You may not deserve it, but it is what it is. I'll expect you to have – completed and typed – a five page double spaced assignment on the medically classified disease of your choice on my desk tomorrow by 3:30pm. Alright?"

As if on cue, thirty something teenagers erupt in a chorus of groans and profuse cursing. Not surprising really; and as much as I would love to join in with everyone else, I still can't let Tanya think I've bombed the test. As far as she knows, it's only me and her who have passed it even though I'm sure it's more than obvious who the second person who passed the test is….

"Okay, settle down, settle down," Mr. Field's continues, silencing everyone with a couple dismissive sweeps of his massive hands, "You know, this is an AP level biology class, everyone should know what to expect by now –"

I furtively roll my eyes, knowing it's time to start zoning out. At least once a month Mr. Fields makes this totally pointless and agonizingly boring speech about the demands and requirements of being in an AP bio class; how we should do our homework, take notes, blah, blah, blah if we expect to pass and receive a university level science credit on our transcripts – "'Cause God knows a college level will get you nowhere" according to Mr. Fields. Of course, I'm willing to bet the only two people even bothering to listen to this little tirade is Tanya and maybe…

I glance over my shoulder to check the desk at the very back of the classroom but to my complete surprise, Garnet O' Conner isn't even looking at Mr. Fields. Instead he's got his face down on the desk, looking to be pretty much asleep, arms encircling his head. I can barely hide my surprise. Garnet O'Conner is probably the single smartest kid in Mr. Field's senior AP bio class, with only Tanya coming in at a close-but-no-cigar second. Seriously; I wouldn't even be surprised if he turned out to be the smartest kid at West Jefferson High. Ever. I'm actually willing to bet my Honda Civic that Garnet was the only person other than Tanya to pass the test; but, of course, you probably would never in a million years guess that by looking at him. Garnet O'Conner may be ridiculously smart but he's still kind of a weird-o. We're talking about a kid who has literally zero friends. I repeat; zero friends. Absolutely none. Zip. Nada. Has been that way since elementary school, I am not even kidding you. I mean how could you not NOT have friends…right? Then again, you kind of have to talk to have friends and this kid does not talk. At. All. Ever. I sit beside him in fourth period English and I swear to you I haven't heard him speak even once so far this year… and it's been two whole months since school started. It's like Helen Keller and Stephen Hawking attempting to hold down a conversation. Brick. Fucking. Wall….

"A little distracted back there, Ms. White?" my intense zoning out has been completely interrupted by Mr. Fields who apparently has quiet abruptly ended his rant on AP bio and has now decided to focus his attention on me.

Wonderful.

"I…um"

Roughly thirty pairs of eyes have unashamedly focused on me, which is really not so great a feeling. What's even more of a not so great feeling is that I can literally feel myself turning a very unflattering shade of red... which, considering my coloring, is painfully obvious.

" Ms. White, if my class is boring you, I am not afraid to –"

"No, sir, I'm not bored." I say, cutting him off before he can threaten to send me to Mr. Tanner's office or, worse, assign me another paper as punishment. "And I wasn't distracted. Honestly."

I am so going to hell for the frightening amount of lies I've told in the space of the last fifteen minutes.

Mr. Feilds gives me a total "Yeah, right." look before suddenly barking out, "And Mr. O' Conner the last time I checked, my class was a place of learning, not a place for you to catch up on your sleep cycle."

There are titters of laughter as a startled Garnet lifts his head from his desk, looking just a little dazed. You know, for a reputedly smart kid, you would think he would know better than to fall asleep in class. Seriously.

"Sorry, sir." I just barely hear him automatically mumble while he begins rubbing his face with his hand.

To tell you the truth, I almost feel sorry for him. It's really kind of hard not to. I mean, the guy's got no friends, he's a borderline mute and he's not exactly the best looking guy ever…though I guess if he stopped wearing dark colors and baggy hoodies all the time he could potentially look half decent. And maybe if he fixed his hair…

The lunch bell rings, startling me to the point that I nearly fall off my lab stool. It's almost like a slap in the face for staring at – of all people – Garnet O'Conner. I mean, ew. Rolling my eyes at myself, I hurriedly gather up my bag and my books while Mr. Fields puts in his last two cents. "Remember I still expect to see five pages typed and double spaced on the medically classified disease of your choice on my desk tomorrow by 3:30pm. And for God's sake, people, if I see even one single line that looks like it could've potentially been copied off a Wikipedia page I can guarantee you will be given an automatic zero."

Well. Any hope I had of completing this assignment has just been completely shot to hell. Seriously, what is it with teachers and being such wiki Nazis? Yes, I know anyone can put anything on wiki (including theories that the Titanic was sunk by aliens – I shit you not) but still. Can't I at least paraphrase? Geez.

Sighing heavily, I stand up and head for the door and out into the packed hall way with everyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

"How many calories do you think a cucumber has?" Maris asks me some twenty minutes later as we stand together in the caf line.

"I dunno two, maybe?" I offer, trying not to let my boredom show as I watch her stare intently at the salad bar beside the cash.

"Okaaaaaaaaay…what about in a cherry tomato?"

"Um….dunno."

"What about in one of those weird celery and peanut butter stick things?"

"Beats me."

"Emma!" Maris snaps, suddenly turning on me, "How the hell am I supposed to lose five pounds if I don't know how many calories I could potentially be consuming?"

I try not to role my eyes at her. I really am trying to be a good friend – you know, by not killing Maris and everything – but this whole diet fetish thing she's got going on right now is really starting to get to me. I mean, Maris doesn't even need to diet and no, I am not just saying that because I'm her best friend. Maris - beautiful Maris, with the long naturally blonde hair, the C38 rack, the big Angelina Jolie lips, the thing for dudes on under-the-counter steroids - is as skinny as a stick, if not more so. I mean, if anyone here should be dieting it should be me but the thing is I kind of like food a bit too much for my own good.

"Maris, why do you think you need to lose weight? You're already thin enough as it is."

Maris flips her perfectly flat ironed hair over her shoulder and I get a strong whiff of her leave in conditioner. "Because if I want to make it as a flyer I need to be tiny with a capital T. Nobody wants to have to toss a fat wobbly cow in the air do they? I mean, Chaz was just saying the other day that only the skinniest girls get picked to be flyers - so of course I naturally thought that if I - "

In case you don't know, which, I'm assuming you don't, Chaz is Maris' on –again –off again boyfriend. More off than on but still. To say their relationship is a rocky one is a bit of an understatement – in fact that's actually putting it nicely. Fucked up is more like it. Seriously, there is so much drama between the two of them I'm surprised MTV hasn't come by and made a reality T.V. show out of it yet. I mean, you got the gorgeous size zero stereotypical blonde cheerleader and then the massive narsistic hot jock with the mentality of a steroid infused Teletubby. What's not to love?

"Maris, you're hardly a fat wobbly cow." I mutter, reaching for a raspberry cheesecake cookie at the cookie display. Only before I can put in on the trey next to my large fry, Maris slaps my hand and I drop the cookie on the floor.

"Maris!"

"Do you have any idea how many calories are in that? Do you? Just looking at it could give you type two diabetes. Not to mention you should never eat carbs so late in the day…"

I turn and give Maris quite possibly my dirtiest look which, okay, isn't all that dirty – more like two parts constipated and one part dirty.

"Maris, I'm already having the shittiest day. At least let me have a cookie." I snap, going to grab another one. "It's already bad enough that I failed my bio test - I don't need you to be my designated calorie counter as well –"

"You failed your bio test?" Maris gasps. Hallelujah, it's a miracle - I've somehow made her shut up about calories and carbs. "But you studied."

"Yeah, no, not really, no. I mean, I tried but you know how these things are. Life got in the way, the Simpsons were on, I was busy, blah, blah, blah…and so I ended up failing. Epically."

Maris gives me one of her "Oh, honey," sympathetic looks. I hate that look. It's like I've suddenly been rendered mentally retarded or something.

"So when you say epically I'm going to assume you mean…?"

"%30." I wince. "Only two people passed out of the whole class which, I know, should make me feel better but, shockingly, it doesn't"."

"30%? Are you shitting me?" she practically chokes.

"Unfortunately no. I don't, uh, shit about these things."

"Oh my God. That is beyond failing, Em; that's, like, a total desperate cry for help."

"I know, right?" I groan, "And it just keeps getting better 'cause now my dad's going to take away the keys to the Civic as punishment for failing."

"Whoa, whoa. Wait a second." Maris says, raising a perfectly manicured hand at me "I swear I thought I just heard you say something about your dad taking away the keys to your car for failing. Isn't that, like, grounding?"

"Yep."

"But your parents never ground you. Ever."

I shrug, "Yeah, but I found out that my dad started reading some parenting book about punishing versus rewarding your child. I think him and Mom are getting desperate now that it's only two months into senior year and I've pretty much bombed every single test I've had so far."

I sneak a sideways glance at Maris whose mouth is hanging wide open in what can only be described as a very unattractive way. She starts shaking her head.

"Em, there is no way you can fail anymore tests or assignments. You know you could, like, totally get kicked off the squad for that." Only Maris is somehow able to make it sound like getting kicked off the cheer squad for poor grades is the equivalent of being permanently exiled to social Siberia for all eternity and beyond. Which in a way it is, I guess. What can I say? My high school career is turning into a John Hughs movie.

I shrug. "Wouldn't be the end of the world."

I can tell Maris is about to come out with a real zinger to that one but is stopped dead when she sees Chaz walking across the caf towards us. Immediately, her long fingers go to her head and she begins anxiously running them through her long hair, something she always does when she's nervous.

"Oh shit, he's coming over here isn't he?" she says, lowering her voice into a ridiculous whisper. I mean, really, who bothers whispering in a loud cafeteria full of boisterous post pubescent teenagers? "Do I look okay? My mascara is good, right?"

I give Maris an awkward smile and an even more awkward thumbs up. I've never really been into that whole "ohmigod he's coming over do I, like, totally look worthy of him or what?" routine. But despite the smile and the thumbs up Maris continues to squirm, nervously smoothing down her too tight t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey babe," Chaz says, sauntering up to us, cool as a cucumber. Okay, so I wasn't exactly expecting the guy to begin reciting Robert Frost or anything but c'mon. "Hey babe" just doesn't cut it for me; though as always, it does the trick for Maris.

"Oh heyyy." She says, going in for one of those delicate girly hugs that girls always seem to give guys. As Chaz hugs her back I can't help but notice how huge he is. Her tiny frame only makes his hugeness even more disturbingly noticeable. It's like a grizzly bear hugging a Chihuahua- not that I know what that would look like or anything.

By the time they've finished hugging, Chaz still has yet to acknowledge my presence but judging from the way he's suddenly launched into inviting Maris to his next game, it doesn't seem like he's going to anytime soon. Acknowledge me I mean.

"…So of course we're going to kick ass…you're gonna be there right, babe?" Chaz asks batting his gorgeous blue eyes at Maris. She responds with a perfectly executed hair toss while saying "Me and Emma are supposed to cheer that night so of course I'll be there."

"Sick. You know you're pretty much my lucky charm, right? I can't play without you." He says, draping a huge arm around her. She nuzzles against him and, Oh dear God, I actually think I'm going to throw up.

"I seriously can't wait." Maris practically purrs. "Hopefully Mrs. K will make me a flyer by then. I've been practicing like crazy and all I've had today was a diet coke. I've already lost three pounds since last Friday."

"That's awesome, babe" Chazz replies, "But I thought you wanted to lose ten pounds? You know flyers pride themselves in being super ti –" he begins but is suddenly cut off by the faint tell-tale sound of a cell phone vibrating. In one fluid motion he undrapes his arm from around Maris' skinny shoulders and slides his cell out of his pocket. I notice Maris' face fall as Chazz flips open his phone and starts to text, completely ignoring her.

"Who are you texting?" she demands in a voice I've rarely ever heard her use. It's one part bitchy, one part accusatory and one part painfully insecure.

"Huh? Oh nobody, just Chase. I gotta go but I'll catch you later, kay, babe?" he says and before Maris can reply he gives her a quick peck on the cheek and is already striding towards the back doors of the caf and heading outside into the school's courtyard.

"Well that was random." I say attempting to be cheerful but failing miserably. This is how it always is with Chaz and Maris. One minute he's the one going out of his way to find her and everything is great and then the next he gets a text from one of his dude friends and - poof! - he's gone. I don't know if it's because he's just too stupid to prioritize Maris over his friends or vice versa or if he just simply doesn't give a crap. It's hard to tell with that boy.

"I guess." Maris says, looking totally put out. I shrug in an attempt to make it seem like it's not that big deal, "C'mon." I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the cash. "Let's just eat, okay? And what the hell did you mean when you said you've only had a diet coke today?" But Maris just shakes her head, ignoring my question. Instead, she's completely silent for a good twenty seconds before finally saying, "Look, I'm not feeling so good so I think I'll just go outside and get some fresh air. You pay for that and I'll meet you in the courtyard in a bit, kay?"

While a part of me wants to slap Maris across the face, stuff my cookie in her mouth and give her a hug all at the same time, another part of me thinks I should just let her be. I mean, I should be used to it by now; she tends to get like this right after Chaz randomly blows her off or chooses to go hang out with one of his guy friends over her. Personally, I wouldn't think it would really be that big a deal except for he has gotten into the annoying habit of doing it all the time.

"Okay, fine, I guess." I say, giving her a little smile so she knows I'm not mad at her or anything for wanting some space. But she doesn't smile back. Instead she gives a little shrug before turning on her heel and heading outside the caf and into the courtyard. I'm left all alone at the salad bar.


End file.
